The Irish standard., 1887-07-23

O6 Ou Iut COuuOHdSc, dil CilOuRu
have a lease, the rint is SO high I'd
never be able to hould only for what he
allows me for the caretakin'."
''I'm glad you have explained this tc
me, Connor; and when I've the dogs
with me I'll keep rs carefully out of
your way as if you were as great rogue
as himself"
"That's bully hare" said Conno1
Shea, after pause: an for all I'd bet a
trifie the little chap made a bitthel
rum
'.You may say that" replied Brian:
"Bran was dead beat, and. after no less
than dozen turns, single hand, the
little chap as YOU call him, was just
getting in among the rocks, when
GaZelle took him.
What did tell you? And didn't l
always say, since she was month ould,
that Gazelle ID be all their daddies?"
II have her entered for the next
coursing match said Brian.
"Well," said Connor, as he eyed the
graceful hound with knowing look,
"'twill be a good one that'll bate her.
"Do you think so. Connor?" asked
the owner, evidently gratiied.
Before replying, Connor Shea, with
the air of man who did not wish to
commit himself rashly, carefully passed
his hand over Gazelle's points, then
resnming his seat, he commenced rub
biDg his chin, with a contenplative
look.
"She takes it, said he.
Having uttered this in somewhat
oracu]ar tone Connor Shea left off rub
bing his hands, and commenced to
operate upon his poll, glaneing all the
time from the corners of his half shut
eyes at the greyhound with that Pc
culiar expression of countenance, which
| when seen in an Irishman's face) may
be vernacular}y translated: "My darling
you wor.''
AT this moment fair-haired girl, Of
about five years old, accompanied by
two curry headed, rosy checked urchins.
of the respective ages of three and four,
came running into the house.
'sFati1er," said she, looking abashed
on finding he WIS not alone: Father,
the scl1ool-master is after passing down,
an we'll finish picking the stones in
the evening"
Very we'll: get your books, an be
off; but first wash the hiackberries off
q that fellows face. Take your finger
out O. your mouth, you young rascal"
and Common SHOOK his fist tlreatenirgly
at one Of the curly headed, rosy checked
urcilins.
"Yo ou ought to be happy man, Con
nor,'' said Brian Purcell, with such q
fine family; and getting on SO well in
the world, too"
1--WE ought to be thankful, MI. Brian;
moreover, wnen we see so much poverty
around us. When I look down at all
THIN bare walls below, an think Of ould
times, an the dance an the hurlin'
match, an the ould neighbors that wor
hunted like wild bastes, it's enough to
break the heart III man, SO it is. But
here's the masther comm III, an if he
sees me- talkin' TO YOU, an thin lads
hanging on the back O. the chair,
there's no Inowin7 what the end Of it
might be. ~
Connor took a peep at tbs cradle to
see that Number Five was asleep, and
slipped into the bedroom.
Mr.. Oliver Grindem, who was corpu
lent and unwieldy, came stamping and
putting into the house. ANY one here?>
he exclaimed, rolling his red eyes
round. Brian did not feel bound to re-
ply to the question, but taking from his
pocket volume ihis inssperable COM
pA1lion in his mountain rambles), he be-
gan to read. Mr. Grindem >abstracted a
flask (his inseparable companion) from
his pocket, and taking teacup from
the dresser, nearly filled it from the
flask, and gulped down half a. pint Of
whiskey at a draught. He was about
leaving The house, when he caught q
glimpse of Connor Shea's wife ap-
preaching it. He drew chair towards
the fire and sat down,
Sally Cavanagh was remarkably fine
specimen of her class. Like all her old
acquaintances, we prefer calling her by
her maiden name. For Sally Cavanagh
had been the belle Of the mountain
foot;' and SO great q fayorite was she
with gentle and simple, and SO familiar
had her name become to old and young,
that we doubt if her own husband heard
any one talk Of Mrs. Shea,' or even
Sally Shea whether he would not be
under the impression that the person so
designated was outside the circle of his
acquaintance.
The glow upon her cheek, and the
joyous light in her expressive brown
eyes, told Of mountain air and exercise,
and of a heart untouched by care OF
sorrow, and unsulled by even thought
at which the most sensitive conscience
might take alarm. Having smiled a |